


Wax On, Wax Off

by slash-em-up (writeonrice)



Series: Slasher Stories [5]
Category: House of Wax (2005)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bo Dom, Bo is a sassy asshole, Body Worship, Emotionally Constipated Boys, F/M, Femdom, First Time, Kissing, Lester has rabies, Licking, Loud Sex, Nipple Play, Not All Tags Apply to All Chapters, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outdoor Sex, Riding, Rough Sex, SMUUUTTTT, Smut and Fluff, Strip Jenga, Sweet Stink Man, Trash Son, Vincent never did a bad thing in his life, Waxy Boy, hats probably, popping Vincent's cherry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-09-02 14:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16788379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeonrice/pseuds/slash-em-up
Summary: These boys are killers - who somehow totally suck at life. Help them. Archive of 'House Of Wax' prompts, fills, and original ideas from 'slash-em-up' on tumblr.





	1. Bo x Reader: Shower Sex

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Nsfw with Bo Sinclair 😃 shower with him 😏😉pls?

You could hear the shower running from your place in the hall.

Tonight had been far more draining than you’d imagined it would be. Bo and Vincent had been dashing back and forth trying to keep the five or so people you’d all lured into Ambrose in check. Leaving you at the house, pacing back and forth until you were needed. Lester had stopped in for a few moments to keep you company, but eventually he’d been called into service by the twins, and again, you were alone.

Once the visitors had been subdued and carted off for Vincent to transform into his wax figures, Bo had stomped up the steps and headed straight for the bathroom. Barely giving you a passing glance.

Now that just wouldn’t do. Which is how you found yourself here. Waiting outside, listening to Bo shower behind the door.

You slowly crept up and opened the door a crack. Just enough to see the foggy outline behind the curtain; and Bo’s hands holding himself up against the shower wall, head forward, allowing the steaming water to rush over him. You saw his signature trucker cap sitting crumpled on the floor and moved to lay it nicely on the counter. Bo’s head was tilted in your direction. You knew he was watching you pick up his clothes - straightening out his mess.

“If you come to say somethin’, just say it.” His head was angled down again. Not connecting, not engaging… Damn but these Sinclair boys drove you crazy. You sighed, giving him a searching look.

“You could have used me out there tonight, Bo. I could have helped. Maybe if you’d had an extra set of hands you wouldn’t –“

He cut you off before you could finish the thought.

“You think I can’t handle this town by myself?! I was doin’ just fine before you got here, and I’ll be doin’ fine once you’re gone!” he snarled.

He turned away from you and began furiously scrubbing at his hair, only to give out a hiss when he hit the bloody gash on the side of his face – a gift from the latest additions to the House of Wax, and the reason you’d chased him in here in the first place.

Having had quite enough of his macho posturing you tore back the shower curtain and stepped into the spray, still fully clothed.

“Now you listen here Bo Sinclair.” You grabbed his face in both your hands, turning him to look at you.

“I know you can handle anything this town throws your way. I’ve never, in all the time I’ve been here, doubted that. But baby, what I’m trying to tell you is that you don’t have to do it alone. You’ve never been doing it alone. You’ve got people who love you and want to be there for you. I know you feel like you need to take care of everybody else, but it’s OK to let us help you out every once and awhile.”

You gently caressed his face, waiting for your words to sink in.

You could see your words impact him in the way he wouldn’t meet your eyes. The anger was gone, and he seemed to deflate in front of you.

“Gettin’ your clothes all wet…” he mumbled, still not looking at you.

“Well then you better help me take them off.” You replied.

This brought his gaze up to meet yours. This he could do. He was back on level ground. He smirked lightly, without malice, and started to run his hands up under your wet shirt.

Heavy, wet sounds signaled your shirt, jeans, and underwear hitting the floor, leaving you naked. Bo slowly sunk down to his knees, not breaking your gaze. This was probably the closest you’d get to an apology from Bo, or a thank you; but you’d made your bed and you were only too happy to lie in it.

Bo’s hands ran up and down your wet thighs as his mouth did it’s delicious, dirty work on you; leaving you quietly gasping out his name. When his bad leg began to trouble him too much to stay on the ground he rose to join you, turning you swiftly to face the shower head.

He raised one of your legs to stand on the ledge of the tub, opening you to him entirely. You moaned as he entered you, and as he began to mouth his way down your spine you pressed back into his heat, hoping for some friction. He took the hint and soon you were both flying on wings of carnal ecstasy. As your release hit you gasped and collapsed forward. You might have gone down entirely if not for his strong arm coming to wrap around your ribs, holding you tightly while he continued to chase his finish. He groaned loudly when he came, flooding you with heat, and he slowly lowered both of you to the floor of the shower.

“Not bad, Beauregard.” You huffed, still coming back down from your high.

He kissed the side of your head, chuckling.

“Fuckin’ knew I’d regret telling you that…”


	2. Vincent x Reader: A Picture Worth A Thousand Words Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My sweet, sweet wax boy gets some lovin'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vincent is one of my favorite masked slashers, and he doesn't get nearly as much love as he should. I'm here to single-handedly rectify that.

The soft clicking of a camera lens brought Vincent’s attention away from the desk in front of him. Twisting in his seat he spotted you sitting on the bottom step, camera raised, pointing it at him. “Say cheese!” you exclaimed, smiling widely *click*. Vincent raised his hand to make a dismissive motion and turned away, fully prepared to ignore you and return to his work.

It looked like he was painting today, if the wide array of brushes and tubes of paint scattered around were any indication. He was bent over a book on anatomy. Flipping a page harshly, he sat back and sighed in frustration. 

“Not finding what you’re looking for?”

He shook his head, gesturing to several sheets of half-finished sketches laying haphazardly on the floor. You picked one up and could immediately see the problem. The pose he was trying to capture was that of a naked male in a twisting full-body stretch – beautiful and powerful – but capturing the movement of the muscles under the skin seemed to be eluding him. 

“Have you asked Bo to model this for you?”

He gave you an incredulous look. You laughed “Yeah, I know, not quite his thing…”

You considered the sketch in your hand quietly for a moment before speaking again.

“How about you? I could take a photo of you in the pose.”

Vincent shook his head rapidly – the thought of being naked and vulnerable in front of you bringing his anxiety to bare, and he quickly stood and walked away. Now on the other side of the room, he seemed to be fixated on rearranging his tools, but you knew better. His way of dealing with things that made him uncomfortable was to escape. Literally, or just off into his own head-space. 

You placed your camera gently onto the desk and walked over to stand behind him. Touching his shoulder, you turned him back to face you. His long, black hair hung limply around his face, hiding him from your view. You raised your hand and moved a strand behind his ear, trying to catch his eye. 

“Hey” you started “No one’s gonna make you do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m just offering a solution to your problem. You don’t have to take off your mask, and I’ll lock the door so no one can come in and see you. It’ll just be you and me.”

He glances at you with nervous eyes, contemplating what you’ve said. In the end, he nods reluctantly. His desire to finish the painting overtaking his fear of ridicule. You smile up at him and tell him to start undressing while you light some more candles. 

You fill the silence with stories about your life before coming to Ambrose. You’d been a professional nature photographer; but before joining the team at an outdoors magazine, you’d worked on a book of boudoir photos for a friend’s Burlesque troupe. The performers had been a fun bunch, and you had a lot of tales about the various mis-haps you’d encountered while working with them.

“… So then Missy was just standing there, with her garter strap stuck to Brian’s collar, and I said…”

You turned to Vincent, seeing him standing naked by his cot, and promptly forgot what you were saying.

“Umm. Ok, you’re ready, good.” 

He nodded awkwardly, and his hands fluttered at his sides, seemingly unsure if he should be covering himself from you or not. You couldn’t help but let your gaze wander up his body – thoroughly enjoying the trip. He really was a beautifully built man. The work he did lent him some amazing tone in his chest, arms, and legs. Too bad he constantly hid himself behind bulky layers of clothing. Your eyes dropped to his groin, and you gave a soundless sigh of appreciation at the sight. In another life he would have made a wonderful life-drawing model. Seeing a blush of pink skin high on his chest, you swallowed and tried to bring yourself back into a professional headspace. 

“So, for the pose you’re trying to get, you need to turn like this… Are you okay with me touching you?”

He considered for a moment before speaking quietly.

“Yes…” 

You felt a slight twitch as you placed your hands on his ribs, but other than that he held himself perfectly still. After prompting him to twist in the correct way, you stepped back and compared his position against the sketch. 

“Can you raise yourself up on the balls of your feet a bit? After that I think we’ll be good.”

Doing as you asked, Vincent stood slightly higher, adding further definition to his calf muscles.

‘Now that’s just not fair…’ you huffed internally. 

You’d been developing a pretty major crush on Vincent over the months you’d been in Ambrose. At first, you were drawn to him because he was the kinder, more reasonable alternative to Bo’s company. Lester being a close second, but rarely around to chat with. 

However, as time went on and you both became more comfortable around each other, Vincent began to open up and share himself with you. He was still one of the shyest people you’d ever met, but on the rare occasions you could get him to have a full conversation with you, you were pleased to discover that he was genuinely smart and funny. He seemed to like you as well. You’d often wake to find a small wax figure or drawing set in front of your door – you hoped that was Vincent’s own quiet version of flirting, but nothing ever came of it. 

A questioning noise from Vincent brought you back to the present. 

“Sorry! My mind decided to take a trip and not tell me about it.” You laughed, trying to explain away your staring. Vincent looked at you with soft eyes and your breath caught. 

You quickly raised your camera and snapped the picture.

*click*

Vincent relaxed his stance as you looked over the photo with a critical eye. You moved over to his side and turned the camera so he could see the digital image – he cocked his head to one side appraisingly and after a moment more, nodded in satisfaction. 

“Good picture.” He mumbled.

You grinned and touched his naked hip with your own clothed one.

“Good models make good pictures.”

The tips of his ears and the top of his chest were bright red again, and he suddenly found the floor very interesting.

Oh, fuck it, if the mountain won’t come to Muhammad and all that jazz…

Moving slowly so he could stop you if he wanted to, you closed the distance between your bodies and gently pressed a kiss to the skin of his neck. He let out small moan, and his chest began to move rapidly as his breathing increased.

Moving back slightly to meet his gaze and were delighted to see the heat of desire overtaking his usual anxiety. 

You grasped his hair and softly pulled to bare more of his throat to you, increasing the intensity of your kisses, sucking and nibbling with care on his sensitive skin.

He was giving quiet exultations to each press of your lips on him, and after several more moments his hands lifted to rest on your hips. Not gripping, just holding. 

You could feel him half-way hard against your thigh, and ground against him, testing the waters, seeing if he was up to take this further. 

“I want you Vincent…” you began, looking up at him. “I like you; and I want every piece of you that you’re willing to give me. Do you want me too?”

He was looking at you as if he couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. His eyes were bright, and you wondered if he was about to cry. 

He rested his wax-masked forehead to press against yours and nodded once.

Smiling, you began to tenderly guide him back to the cot, pressing him into a reclining position, and stepped back to rid yourself of your own clothes. 

You were half-way out of your sweater when there was a rattle at the top of the stairs, and Bo’s voice rang out into the silence of the basement.

“Vincent!! Why the fuck is the door locked? You jackin’ off?”

Immediately the mood was ruined. You began to swear a blue streak, pulling back down your top and stomping over to the bottom of the stairs.

“Hold your FUCKING HORSES BO!” you yelled, angry at being essentially cock-blocked by another giant cock. 

“What the FUCK are you doing down there?!” Bo shouted, shaking the door again.

“I’m helping Vincent with a painting, God, RELAX!” 

While Bo and you had been shouting at each other, Vincent had quickly slipped back into his own clothes, and now walked up to stand behind you. He took one of your clenched fists in his hands and stroked it until it released. Raising it, he pressed it to his heart. 

You sighed, anger leaving your body. His eyes looked at you steadily, and you could tell by the crinkles in the corners that he was smiling. 

“Hey, so, if you’re not busy tonight…” you started, awkwardly “I’d really like to finish what we started down here, if that’s okay with you.”

He nodded rapidly, and that wonderful heat was back in his gaze.

You shoved him back a pace until his back was pressed to the wall. Ducking down you gave a slow lick up the side of his neck.

You smirked up at him. 

“Good.”


	3. Vincent x Reader: A Picture Worth A Thousand Words Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been feeling pretty down today, so here’s 2800 words of ridiculously self-indulgent Vincent Sinclair smuff (new word, smutty-fluff). I’ll definitely be finishing up some requests once I’m feeling a bit better, but for the moment, I hope you enjoy some good wax boy content.

Vincent was avoiding you.

You were absolutely sure of it. After your encounter in the basement, you’d both parted ways to go about whatever task Bo had interrupted you for.

You hadn’t seen him since then, two days ago, despite your mutual agreement to finish up what you’d begun. 

You smiled softly at the memory. Vincent had been so sweet for you. So submissive, just like you knew he’d be. You’d inferred it from the way Bo treated him; though you’d never abuse him like that. 

Vincent was so kind and smart; your heart fluttered at the thought that there was even the potential for him to be yours.

You stirred the pot of stew you’d spent the morning in the kitchen concocting. 

Sighing heavily, you glanced at Lester, who sat at the kitchen table polishing some bones he’d collected. Setting your ladle down, you walked over to pull two beers from the fridge. You handed one to Lester, who smiled up at you gratefully, and plopped yourself down in one of the metal kitchen chairs.

You took a pull from your bottle – nasty, but there wasn’t much else to drink around here – and glanced at Lester. Hoping he’d be up for some conversation. 

You weren’t ashamed to admit, it got lonely here in Ambrose. Bo was the only other talkative person you saw on a daily basis, and most of your interactions consisted of snippy comments and not-so-veiled threats.

“I gotta say, it’s nice having someone around who can make a proper meal.” 

Lester drawled as he popped the cap off his bottle and took a swig.

“None of us can cook worth a damn. Been pert’ near five years since my roadkill’s been made into anything ‘sides steak.”

You hummed lightly in amusement.

“Well, all that canned food was making me sad. I felt like I needed to fatten you boys up a bit.”

Lester chuckled. He really was a sweetheart.

You shrugged, leaning back in your chair.

“We’ll see who turns up to enjoy it. You and I might just have to stuff our faces if the twins don’t roll in soon.”

As if your words had conjured them, Lester and you turned at the sound of a truck pulling up to the house. Moments later the front door swung open – allowing for Vincent and Bo to enter.

Both twins paused in the entryway, taking in the scent of cooked meat and broth wafting from the stove.

“Shit, that smells good.” Bo entered the kitchen and pulled his own beer from the fridge, then dropped down at the head of the table.

“If I’d known you could cook I woulda’ had you workin’ in here a long time ago.”

You chose to ignore Bo and focus on Vincent. He was still hanging around the kitchen doorway, seemingly nervous to enter. You called out to him.

“Vincent, come join us! There’s plenty of food. Why don’t we have a nice dinner together?

Meeting your eyes briefly, Vincent shook his head in denial of your request.

“Aw Vincent never eats with other people. That’d mean he’d have to take off his mask and put the rest of us off our supper. He’ll grab somethin’ later and take it to his room.”

Bo kept his eyes on you. Watching you watching Vincent nod in agreement to Bo’s somewhat indelicate explanation for his reticence. 

You made another attempt to get Vincent to simply sit with the group, but were turned down again. After that, Vincent wandered off and you sulkily served up dinner to the two remaining brothers. 

Because it’s just how your brain worked, you began to agonize over your interaction with Vincent. Maybe you’d mis-read him in the basement? Was this his way of letting you down gently? 

During clean-up, you were surprised to be approached by Bo, of all people. Blunt as always, he inquired what your intentions were with his twin.

“You tryin’ to get in Vincent’s pants?”

Spluttering in embarrassment, you tried to deflect this line of questioning to literally anything else; but Bo was having none of it.

“Look. If you’re tryin’ to get with Vincent, you’re gonna have to take some fuckin’ initiative. He’s never had a woman before, and I don’t know if he’ll know what to do with ‘er if he ever gets one; but he’s a good kid, and he don’t deserve the shit hand he’s been dealt.”

He rubbed the back of his neck in irritation.

“Guess what I’m trying to say is, if you hurt my brother I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

Your eyes were the size of dinner plates by this point. Was Bo Sinclair seriously giving you the shovel talk?

“… We haven’t. I mean, Vincent and I… We don’t, uh… Are you giving me your blessing to… deflower your brother?”

Bo grinned. 

“Well I wouldn’t put it quite like it was some ‘Pride an’ Prejudice’ shit; but yeah. Go fuck his brains out. Maybe then he’ll stop moonin’ over you from behind closed doors.”

Pursing your lips in doubt, you couldn’t help but say “I don’t even know if he’s interested…”

Bo gave a gruff laugh in response. 

“Oh, he’s interested. He just don’t know what to do about it.”

You gave Bo one last dubious glance and walked away towards the stairs. 

Once you reached your room you paused before opening the door. Looking over your shoulder, you stared at Vincent’s room directly across from yours. The light was on, and you could hear some small sounds of his movements from behind the door. Thinking of what Bo had said, you took a step closer and raised your hand. To knock or not to knock… After another moment, you sighed and turned to enter your own room.

There was a plain white envelope sitting on the foot of your bed.

Pulling out the sheet of paper, you saw it was covered in neat print – but that nearly half of it was scribbled over and out. You began to read.

_‘_ ~~Hello~~ ~~Dear~~ ~~My Sweet~~ Y/N,  
I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you. ~~I was afraid~~ ~~I wasn’t sure you were serious~~ I needed some time to think. What happened in the basement was ~~fantastic~~ ~~incredible~~ ~~unbelievable~~ ~~more than I’d ever hoped~~ a mistake. I hope you’ll understand why I’m telling you this when I say we should just remain friends. I know I’m not ~~handsome~~ ~~normal~~ the easiest person to get to know, and I truly appreciate the work you’ve done to bring me out of my shell. I would hate to jeopardize our relationship if ~~you get scared of me~~ ~~you end up not wanting me~~ ~~I fuck this up~~ anything unfortunate should happen. Please believe me when I say this has nothing to do with you, ~~you’re perfect~~ ~~gorgeous~~ ~~amazing~~ ~~wonderful~~ and everything to do with me. Please don’t ~~hate me~~ ~~leave me~~ take this personally.   
~~With affection~~ , ~~Yours~~ , ~~Best Wishes~~ , Sincerely,   
Vincent’

Well fuck. 

This wouldn’t do at all.

It was clear to you that this was a turning point. Whatever you did next would determine the course of your relationship with Vincent for however long you continued to remain in Ambrose.

In your mind, you knew there was really only one thing to do.

With carefully measured movements, you slid your clothes off your body and wrapped yourself in a bathrobe. Then after taking a deep, steadying breath, you silently slipped out of your room and across the hall.

You knocked quietly on Vincent’s door. 

There was no sound from inside, so you gently tested the handle and found it unlocked. You opened the door and stepped inside.

The room was bathed in soft moonlight – illuminating the sparse furnishings with the ethereal light. You could see Vincent laying on his bed sleeping – shirtless, with his mask set next to him on the side-table. He was laying on his back, and the low lighting of the room gave you your first view of his face. 

There wasn’t a particularly kind way to describe the damage his father’s surgery had wracked upon Vincent. The right side of his face was perfect. Just like Bo’s – but completely void of the harshness and wear – he looked nearly angelic. But the left… was gone. 

That was the easiest way to say it. His entire left side was a ruinous crater reaching from the top of his forehead down to the angle of his jaw – leaving him with a single eye and half-mangled lips. You’d be lying if you said it wasn’t hard to look at – but instead of revulsion you felt an overwhelming amount of sadness. 

Vincent was so _**good**_. He was one of the kindest men you knew, and he didn’t deserve to have this burden.

Slowly approaching his side, you sat gently on the bed next to him. Wondering what you should do now that you’d made it here.

Shifting in his sleep, Vincent’s head rolled towards you and his lips parted in a soft sigh.

Unable to help yourself, you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his.   
After a moment, you heard Vincent groan and his hand rose to tangle in your hair – waking just enough to return your kiss.

When you parted minutes later, quietly panting, you saw his eye crack open, and he smiled up at you.

“…’m dreaming…”

Not quite sure how to respond, you said the only thing that popped into your head.

“I got your letter. I think we need to talk about it.”

You watched as awareness rose in Vincent’s eye, his smile slowly sliding down into a frown – then a look of terrified horror as he realized you were looking straight at his unmasked face. 

Jerking back and raising one hand to cover his deformed half, Vincent frantically made a grab for his mask. However, the dim light and his recently-asleep state left his coordination lacking, and all he managed was to knock the mask to the floor, where the delicate wax snapped in half. 

Moaning in dismay, Vincent pressed himself further away from you – bringing both hands up to cover himself. Letting his long hair drift down as an added layer of protection from your gaze.

You weren’t really surprised at his reaction and had pulled yourself further onto the bed to avoid his movements. Scooting closer to his curled form, you reached out and began gently rubbing his arms from wrist to elbow. Trying to offer some comfort to the distraught man.

“Please…” he whispered quietly.

“Vincent, I need you to listen to me. I know this isn’t a great way to approach this, but I didn’t know any other way to make you take what I’m about to say seriously… I wasn’t lying, or joking, or anything like that when I said I wanted you. I want you so badly it’s been driving me insane not being around you these last two days… What happened down in the basement between us wasn’t a mistake. At least, not to me… I meant every word I said down there; and I meant every kiss I gave you – then, and tonight. I know what you are, and what you do, and I still want all you’re willing to give me.”

During your speech Vincent had slowly uncurled himself and lowered his right hand, giving you his full attention. Eye darting across your face with confusion at your words – his brow furrowed as if you were speaking a foreign language. 

As you finished, he licked his lips and turned his head away.

“…Can’t be true. Don’t want me. How could you?”

You sighed in exasperation. 

“Fine. If I can’t tell you, then I’ll just have to show you.”

With that, you pulled yourself fully onto the bed and moved to straddle Vincent’s thighs.

If he was still during your speech, then he was an absolute statue as you reached out a gentle, but firm hand and turned his deformed side to face you.

Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to his mangled cheek. 

“Oh, God.” Vincent gasped out as he felt your lips move across his face. 

“Please Vincent…” You spoke between kisses. “Please, let me in. Let me love you…”

This seemed to be Vincent’s breaking point. In less than a moment after those words had left your mouth, it was covered by Vincent’s lips. 

His inexperience was very clear, but you were too emotional to care – moving your lips in an off-tempo rhythm with his, grasping at his shoulders and neck as his hands rested against your ribcage.

Both of you were making small moans of pleasure as you brought your tongue into play – running it slowly against Vincent’s, trying to coax his into motion.

You ground your knee against his groin, making him throw his head back with a gasp.

“Are we…?”

“If you want to…”

“I’ve never…”

“Bo told me.”

“…Gonna kill him.”

You laughed.

“It’s ok. Let me take the lead.”

With a grin, you quickly untied your robe and let it drop to the floor.

Vincent froze at the sight of your nude body. 

His eyes flew over you, taking in everything he could with an artist’s attention to detail. One shaking hand rose to caress your soft flesh.

“…You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Taking his hand in yours, you raised it to your mouth and gently kissed his knuckles. 

Pulling him closer, you caught his lips with yours once more as you slid the blankets away from his legs.

When you reached for the waistband of his pajamas, Vincent shifted lower, so you were sitting atop his hips, and pulled his last item of clothing off, tossing it into the darkness of the room. 

You began to undulate slowly on his hip, spreading your slick along his hardening length.

He moaned at the feeling and leaned his head back, only to have you grasp his hair and pull him up to meet your eyes. 

You wanted to watch him as you took him.

His breathing quickened as you grasped his cock and positioned it at your hole. His eye widened, mouth agape, as you sunk down slowly, letting him feel every inch of your body pulling him in.

You sat atop him for several minutes, allowing him to adjust to the sensation of your warmth. Flexing your inner muscles, you leaned down to lick the tear that had escaped his eye.

He turned his head and caught your lips with his – giving you soft, wordless worship as best he could.

The heat inside you was building to an unbelievable level – the sensation of his strong body beneath you, hot thick cock inside you, and his soft eyes upon you working a magic that no amount of experience could replace.

Without another word you began to raise and lower your hips on his.

Pursing his lips, Vincent gave a hum of pleasure, grasping onto your thighs as you moved above him.

Smiling a little deviously, you tightened around him with your next upward motion, causing him to cry out at the sensation. 

“PLEASE!.. God, going to cum, ple-UH.. What can I do? Tell me what to do….!”

Panting, open mouthed, you grabbed his hand and pressed it to your clit.

“Rub. Hard. Don’t stop until I tell you.”

He immediately went about his task, pressing and circling your nub with expert fingers. He may not have been with a woman before, but he definitely knew how their anatomy worked.

You felt your end fast approaching, and by the way Vincent was flexing beneath you, you could tell he wasn’t far behind.

Feeling your orgasm begin to crest, you grabbed Vincent by the back of his head and mashed your lips to his. 

You felt more than heard his muffled wail of release, pressed against you as he was; and you shivered at the feeling of his warm seed painting your insides.

You softened your kiss as the tingles began to subside - pressing your lips across Vincent’s face, simply enjoying being with him in the afterglow.

Regaining a bit of his sense, Vincent began to rub tiny circles in the hollows of your hips with his thumbs.

“Thank you. For that. I never, um… You’re just so… Thanks.”

He wouldn’t meet your eyes, and even in the cool moonlight you could see he was blushing bright red.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for months now.” You grinned lightly.

Wrapping your leg under his thigh you pulled him onto his side; so you could cuddle him without removing his length from your body. You nuzzled against him and closed your eyes in contentment.

“Sleep now Vincent. I’ll show you how to thank me properly in the morning.”

Your smile widened as you felt him twitch inside you in interest.

Pressing a kiss to the side of your head, Vincent hummed with happiness.

“You really do have the best ideas.”


	4. H/C: Bo Sinclair, Dirty Talk/NSFW Headcanons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: slashy can i request some nsfw bo headcanons THANK YOU <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'H/C' chapters indicate that the prompt was filled using bullet-points instead of a full-narrative

• If you look in the dictionary under ‘Bad Attitude MOFO’ you will see a picture of Bo Sinclair. He was born annoyed and by God he’ll probably die that way too.

• Being his S/O is never boring, so I hope you’re ready for a wild ride. This Boy cannot sit still, and he will purposefully piss you off to get a rise out of you – seeing you flustered and angry makes him hard in .2 seconds.

• Sex with Bo varies from day to day, depending on his mood. Some days it’s slow and sweet, others it’s rough and you’re not leaving without a couple of bruises.

• Dominant boy all the time, but when he’s tired he’ll act like a pillow princess and make you ride him.

• He will also make you wear his hat while you’re on top, so be prepared for that.

• When he gets worked up his accent gets 10000% thicker

• Bo is easily one of the top ten spankers you’ve ever encountered. He’ll bend you over his knee anywhere in the house if you’re being bratty. You’ve made Vincent run out the door on more than one occasion.

• PREY/PREDATOR KINK. This boy loves nothing more than to have you run from him. He will 100% fuck you where he catches you.

• Loves to bend you over a bench on the main street and take you from behind. Might turn you so you can watch yourself in one of the shop windows – if there’s a wax figure in the shop Bo will whisper dirty things in your ear about how filthy you are, letting people watch you cum in public.

• If you’re feeling adventurous, try using your hands to hold this boy down. He’s got some serious child-hood trauma revolving around being tied up; but if you take it slow and easy you might just be able to help him make some new, better memories.

**DIRTY TALK:**

Bo is a BIG DIRTY TALKER. This boy has a mouth that would make a sailor blush. Here are some of his greatest hits:

• Mmmm look at you darlin’, laying there so pretty, just for me. So wet too… I bet I could just… Ahhhhh!! Yeah, thought so…. Takin’ all of me so nice, it’s like your little hole’s just sucking me in…

• You like that baby? Yeah, ride me harder, harder FUCK… TAKE IT bitch, you know you love it… *GASP* You gonna cum all over my cock? No, don’t touch, you come on my cock alone or you don’t come at all…

• Naughty bitch, this is what back-talk get you, come lay yourself over my knee… Hands behind your back. You’re gonna feel all this…. You’ll be lucky if you can take a shit by the time I’m done with your ass… Look at that. Your screaming scared off poor Vinny, let’s find some way to shut that mouth of yours…


	5. H/C: Vincent with a Blind!S/O

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Could I request headcannons about Vincent Sinclair and a blind S/O?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'H/C' chapters indicate that the prompt was filled using bullet-points instead of a full-narrative

• Vincent is low-key relieved that you can’t see him. He’s got serious self-esteem issues, so being able to avoid the inevitable disgust he’s sure you’ll display as soon as you realize you’re cavorting with a freak gives him some measure of security.

• Initially he probably tried to convince you that he looked exactly the same as Bo. When being introduced to the brothers he positioned himself far away from you so you’d reach for him last – then he’d mumble something like ‘Bo’s twin..’ and whisk himself away to the House of Wax.

• Since Bo is a loud-mouth asshole poor Vincent wouldn’t even make it out the door before being ordered back over to you.

• You could feel him flinching away as you gently ran your hands over his unmasked face, so you didn’t linger. You threaded your hands through his long hair instead and commented on how soft it was.

• Once he determined that you probably weren’t going to flee from him, Vincent began shyly reaching out to you for physical affection. He’d gently hold your hand while you were sitting in the kitchen or direct you to lean against him on the couch – in all honesty, he began to have a serious kink for having you play with his hair. It wasn’t very often, if at all, that this poor boy was touched kindly before you came.

• Since his deformity makes speaking clearly a hassle, he’s more likely to lead you around and have your fingers investigate whatever he wants to share. He enjoys getting your fresh perspective on his art, so even if he could speak well, he’d probably keep quiet anyway and let you do your thing.

• As time goes on you became the official-unofficial quality control manager for Vincent’s wax figures. He won’t bring a statue up into the House of Wax unless it’s passed your inspection.

• He secretly begins learning braille and starts putting love notes into the wax in places he knows you’ll run your hand across.

• Basically, you’d be hard-pressed to find a more loving, understanding partner than this sweet-heart. He loves everything about you, including your blindness, it’s just another facet of your uniqueness to him.


	6. Cake Slices: Vincent Sinclair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a small series I've started for all my slasher boys called 'Cake Slices'. They're four small, sweet slice of life drabbles. Enjoy!

**Batter Up:**

“Well Sinclair, what do you have to say for yourself?”

Vincent froze – brownie batter covered spoon half-way up to his mouth – mask tilted just enough to uncover his chin and lips.

“Umm… Were you saving this?”

You smiled at Vincent and shook your head.

“No, but if you wait a few more minutes, the bars will be done. I think you’ll enjoy those a lot more.”

Shrugging non-committal-y, Vincent stuck out his tongue and licked the chocolate mixture from the spoon. 

“Cute, smart-ass.” You walked over and stuck a finger into the bowl. Contemplating the goo on your hand for a moment, you reached out and smeared the batter onto Vincent’s lips.

Vincent looked at you in shock – unsure of what to do next.

He slowly reached out and gathered a small amount of chocolate onto his own finger, before reaching out and pressing it against your lips.

You grinned up at him.

“No use in letting all this go to waste.”

**Puppy Play:**

The one good thing about having lured a truck-full of frat boys into Ambrose was that inevitably, one of the douchey dude-bros would be carrying a frisbee in his duffle bag.

This was great news for one simple reason: Jonesy the dog ADORED playing frisbee.

Which was how you ended up tossing the disc up and down the street with Vincent, letting Jonesy wear herself out playing Monkey in the Middle.

Once your very happy dog collapsed in a tired puddle against the pavement, you jogged over to join Vincent on a nearby bench.

Leaning your head against his shoulder, you grinned widely as you felt him entwine your fingers with his.

Your tender moment was interrupted a second later as Jonesy leapt up onto the bench and began lathering you both with kisses.

By the time Jonesy had showered you both with what she felt was an appropriate amount of affection, she happily bounced off your laps and bounded down the street back towards the house.

Giggling loudly, you grabbed Vincent and gave chase; laughing like teenagers as you ran up the road hand-in-hand.

**Art Appreciation:**

All it had taken was one passing comment that your room was feeling a little bare before Vincent was dragging you up to the House of Wax and walking you through like he was a tour guide.

Showing off his various paintings and sketches; offering to move any you liked into the house.

“Do you prefer portraits? Or landscapes? I think I have a still-life around here… Or just tell me what you like, and I’ll paint you something completely new.”

You broke down in laughter at Vincent’s earnestness – making him pause and look at you with confused embarrassment.

“…Or I suppose we could ask Bo to pick you out a poster… or something… the next time he goes to town…”

Sobering, you smiled and pulled Vincent into a hug.

“Oh, no, baby, I love the idea of having your work in my room. You just looked too cute and I couldn’t help myself.”

Vincent blushed, stepping back, and scuffed his boot against the floor.

“Uh, well, then which one do you want?”

You made a show of looking around.

“Hmm… There was this one piece… So gorgeous - I don’t think I’d ever want it to leave my room once I had it…”

Holding up your hands, you made a box with your fingers and framed Vincent’s face.

“There it is…”

**In Sickness and In Health:**

“I’b fine, really, I don deed a durse.”

“Sure, you’re clearly the picture of health.”

Vincent tried to look indignant, but the effect was lessened by the body-wracking cough he let out moments after you spoke.

He lay propped up on his cot in the basement, surrounded by a sea of used tissues. 

You’d discovered him this morning at his work bench – mask off, which was your first clue that all was not well – leaning heavily to one side and moving a blob of wax around with his finger. 

You’d gone into mother-mode immediately and hustled him over to the corner mattress, ignoring his half-hearted protests.

It seemed that once again, Vincent was proving to be the exact opposite of his twin – who he’d probably gotten this cold from – as Bo had whined and moaned like he was dying the second he’d begun to sniffle.

Pressing your lips against his forehead, you checked to see if his fever had gone down over the last few hours.

He was still feeling warmer than you’d like; so, you grabbed a cool washcloth and began to dab at his face and chest.

Vincent sighed deeply, allowing himself to sink into the bed and be babied.

“Lub you.”

“I love you too, Vincent.”


	7. Bo x Reader: Strip-Jenga

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just really loved the idea of playing strip-Jenga with Bo, what can I say?

You cleared your throat nervously before gathering your courage and looking Bo straight in the eye.

“Alright Sinclair, here’s the deal. I’ll play your little game, but I have some ground rules -

Number One: No touching.

Number Two: No staring. 

Number Three: We each get one free pass – one piece back on, no questions

\- and Number Four: If I get uncomfortable, or feel like you’re getting too cozy, the game’s off.”

Bo leaned back in his chair and grinned at you.

“Seems like an awful lot of rules for a game of strip-Jenga, darlin.”

Crossing your arms, you clasped your elbows tightly, trying to keep your own smile down.

“Well, what can I say, I’m a little shy…and don’t call me ‘darlin’.”

Giving out a small chuckle, Bo reached his hand towards the Jenga tower between you, plucking a tile from the center and placing it jauntily on top.

“Bet I can break you of that, sweetheart.”

You glared at him as you toed off your left shoe and flicked it towards his legs.

Taking a swig from your beer bottle, you leaned in to observe the tower – picking a tile from the base and setting it next to Bo’s at the peak.

Glancing quickly away as Bo began to unbutton his shirt, you stuttered out an objection.

“P-pretty sure that’s not how this game’s supposed to go. Aren’t you supposed to start small and work your way up?”

Tossing his button-down to the side, Bo pulled at the cuffs on his long-sleeve tee shirt, making sure they still covered his scars.

“Don’t know, never played before. But I gotta say, anything that gets you so riled is alright by me.”

Focusing on the table before you, you muttered under your breath “If you end up sitting there naked with only that dumb hat on, I’m going to be so pissed…”

Narrowing his eyes playfully, Bo took his own beer by the bottle neck and drank deeply while plucking his next piece. The tower swayed dangerously, and Bo raised his eyebrows, watching you watch the tower. 

“Whoever knocks it down has to get full naked, right?”

“Mmmhmmm…” you confirmed, eyes locked on the game. Once the tiles settled, you removed your other shoe; leaving your sock-clad toes curling beneath the table.

The game progressed, and eventually you both sat before a heavily-leaning Jenga tower. You clad only in your shirt and underwear; Bo sitting in his socks, hat, and a smile.

“I hate you so much right now.” 

You groused at Bo – glaring at his hat, still perched atop his dark hair.

Thankfully his more interesting bits were still covered by the table – even after all the work he’d done to give you the Full Monty when his pants and boxers came off.

“What’re the kids sayin’ these days? ‘Don’t hate the player, hate the game’ or some shit like that?”

He looked at you like the cat that ate the canary – knowing full well it was your turn… and that tower wasn’t getting any stronger.

Barely daring to breathe, you pressed your fingernail against the edge of a tile, slowly working it loose. Your heart stopped as it caught on the final corner.

Bo leaned in, eyes gleaming.

Wiggling the corner slowly, you nearly shouted in triumph as it came free.

“Shit.” Bo removed one of his socks, pouting. 

You grinned. “Don’t hate the player…”

He met your eyes with a smirk.

“Might want to hold the sass, sugar. I’m about to get you out of that shirt.”

With dexterity belying the roughness of his hands, Bo reached forward and seemingly magic’d a tile away from the tower, full-toothed smile shining in the lamp-light.

“Fuck…”

“Shirt or panties, baby. I know which one I’d pick.”

Looking anywhere but at Bo, you quickly pulled your shirt over your head – leaving your bra-clad chest to prick with goose-bumps in the chill night air.

Bo whistled lowly as he stared at you.

“You’re breaking rule number two…” 

You crossed your arms self-consciously over your chest.

“I really don’t care.”

Meeting his heated gaze, you felt a flutter in your stomach that wasn’t just nerves. 

No one could deny that Bo was a very attractive man, and right now he was fully focused on you - looking like he wanted nothing more than to eat you whole.

You swallowed tightly and reached a trembling hand towards the tower. 

The collapse seemed to happen in less time than it took to blink. 

One second you were grasping a tile, the next you were staring at a pile of scattered wood blocks, mouth agape. 

Your eyes flew to Bo.

His shoulder muscles bunched as he prepared for movement – staring at you with wicked intent.

“Now, are you gonna take off those clothes, or should I?”

Releasing an open-mouthed breath, you stared at him and said “I think you better…”

Bo’s eyes narrowed and he smiled up at you.

“With pleasure.”


	8. Vincent x Reader: Morning Smuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Uhhh may i please have some fluffy smex with Vincent Sinclair that accidentally gets to loud please!

All you could remember was having the most wonderful dream… The details stubbornly remained vague, but you could recall that it was Vincent and you in the most beautiful house, making love by a fire as snow fell softly outside… 

The feeling of him moving inside you remained, and as you jolted awake, you could only gasp at the pleasure that surged through your body.

But oddly enough, the feeling didn’t dissipate with waking, and as you groggily peaked through your lashes, you were greeted with the sight of a dark head of long hair moving between your spread legs.

“ _Ahhh_ … _Vincent_ …” you moaned out quietly.

The head moved, and your eyes met Vincent’s soft blue gaze – unmasked and playful in the morning light filtering through your curtains.

“Good morning…” He spoke quietly.

You grinned sleepily down at him.

“It is now. Thanks for the wake-up call.”

He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh and rubbed at your calves. Seemingly unwilling to move from his sprawl, twisted between your legs.

“…You don’t have to stop if you don’t want to… I’m ok to stick around here for a few more hours if you are…”

A low chuckle resonated through the still air, and with a lingering rub at your body, Vincent lowered his mouth back to your leaking sex.

You closed your eyes at the first tentative lick of his tongue - apparently, he wasn’t quite as self-assured when you were awake – and bit your lip with a smile.

Small hums of pleasure escaped your mouth as he continued to move his wet muscle slowly up and down your slit, lingering in any spot that made your breath catch.

Soon, he took the initiative to tug gently on your labia lips with his teeth. This caused you to release a heavy groan – his name intertwined with the noises of your pleasure.

You inhaled sharply as he pressed a finger slowly inside your hole, withdrawing and adding a second as soon as your breath evened out.

Tightening your legs around his broad shoulders, you began to pant heavily as he pressed and curled his fingers against your soft inner flesh.

“More, _Uh_ , Vincent, just a little more…”

He hummed against your flesh, and began to slowly suckle at your clit, rolling it between his lips and flicking it quickly with his tongue.

This, coupled with the feeling of his fingers pressing against your inner walls was enough to send you spiraling over the edge of ecstasy once more; giving a sharp yelp at the sensation.

You quickly clasped a hand over your mouth to muffle any noises that might still be trying to escape.

Vincent slowed to a halt, out of breath, and you could see he was grinding his hard cock against the mattress in an attempt to relieve his own frustration.  
Still out of breath, you pulled at Vincent’s body, motioning for him to get on top of you.

He obeyed your prompting almost immediately, and you quickly re-positioned your legs to wrap around his hips – jolting your body upwards to meet his.

He tried to bury his face in your shoulder as he began to press himself against your heat, but your breathless “Please, Vincent… Look at me…” brought his gaze back to you.

Grasping the back of his head, you brought his forehead down to rest against yours – breathing in his deep sigh as be slowly sunk his shaft into your soaked slit.

Maintaining eye contact, you both began a slow rolling rhythm that made your toes curl with each pulse of his hips against yours.

It wasn’t too long before you were both giving out huffing groans at the pleasure coursing through your bodies.

You pulled his lips - still wet with your juices - down to meet yours in a heated kiss. Moving your lips together in time with your thrusting hips.

Removing your lips from his, you tossed your head back against your pillow as you felt the electric tingles of your finish begin to course through your limbs.

Your third orgasm of the morning hit you like a freight train, and you couldn’t hold in the cry of satisfaction that burst forth from your mouth as you gripped Vincent tightly to your body; bringing him to completion with a loud exclamation of his own.

As you lay panting in each other’s arms, you were abruptly brought off cloud-nine by the noise of a rain of rocks pelting your window.

Reluctantly rolling off your body, Vincent helped you sit up, and wrapped you in a blanket as he moved to investigate. 

Neither of you could contain your embarrassed chuckle as you looked down to see Bo and Lester standing beneath your window – apparently trying to complete some yard-work before the sun’s heat became unbearable.

Lester was trying to hide his laughter behind crossed arms as Bo glared up in annoyance.

“WE GET IT, YOU’RE HAVIN’ SEX. CONGRATULATIONS. THINK YOU COULD FUCKIN’ KEEP IT DOWN UP THERE??!!”

Quickly snatching a pad of paper off of Vincent’s night-stand, you scribbled a note in bold letters – showing it to Vincent before tossing him a roll of tape and giving him a playful wink.

His eyes were bright, and he let out a soft laugh as he taped the paper to the window.

You flipped Bo off as Vincent pointed down at your bold ‘ **DO NOT DISTURB** ’ sign.

Giggling, you pulled Vincent back under the covers as Bo and Lester both gave loud protestations from the ground.

Sucks to be them; you were about to get laid. Again.


	9. Bo x Reader: Date Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since this week seems to be ‘Bo Week’, I thought I’d add my little contribution… ;P

“Hey, you see that guy over there? The hot one in the trucker cap?”

“Yeah? What about him?”

“Can you send him over a shot and tell him it’s from me?”

“Uh, Sure. What do you want to send him?”

“A shot of Cynar.”

“… You know that’s-“

“I know, just send it!”

“Ok. Your money…”

You grin and wait in anticipation as the bartender pours the shot and walks it over to the table behind you. 

Watching in the mirror, you see the man you’d singled out raise an eyebrow at the drink once it’s in front of him and take a long glance in your direction (happily, you notice his eyes linger maybe a little too long on your back-side). As his gaze rises, your eyes catch his in the mirror and you raise your glass of whiskey in a mock-salute. 

He gingerly grasps the shot glass and returns your gesture - before knocking back the liquid you’d sent over. 

Biting back a smirk, you watched as his eyes widen and he begins to hack and cough at the flavor before taking a large swallow of the beer sitting in front of him, trying to rinse his tongue of the awful taste. 

A chuckle escapes your mouth as Bo glares back at you from the mirror, before he snags the waitress and whispers something in her ear.

The girl giggles at whatever he said – the flirt – before she walks behind the bar and pours a shot out of a suspiciously unlabeled bottle full of clear liquid.

You let out a long sigh as she sets the glass down in front of you and you glance back up to see Bo watching you with a shit-eating grin plastered on his lips. 

Determined to not be the loser in this week’s game of drink-chicken, you swing your stool around to face Bo, drink in hand. The bar was dead tonight – you two wouldn’t be luring anyone back to Ambrose at this rate.

So, you figure you’d hedge your bets and ensure your night ends on a high-note.

Leaning back against the bar, you make sure Bo’s eyes are on you as you slowly spread your legs, revealing your complete lack of panties beneath your provocative dress.

You throw him a saucy wink as you see his eyes light up at the view you’re providing; and with a jaunty toss, you gulp down your shot of mystery liquor. 

Oh God, it’s jalapeno vodka. You are going to fucking murder Bo.

Gagging, you grab a handful of the bar pretzels sitting next to you, and wash them down with a sip of your whiskey.

Unnoticed during your peppery distress, Bo walks over and sets himself against the bar next to you, still smiling in smug satisfaction at your apparent discomfort. 

Setting his hand a bit too high on your thigh to be completely innocent, he affects a concerned gaze.

“Sorry ‘bout that. A bit too hot for you?”

You take a slow drag from your tumbler and give him an unimpressed look over the rim.

“So, what’s a pretty thing like you doin’ in a dive like this?”

Rolling your eyes, you reply “That line’s just about as tired as you are before your coffee. If you’re trying to get laid tonight you better step up your game.”

His hand begins to worry at the hemline of your dress as he gives you a slight pout.

“Well if that’s the way you feel, maybe I’ll just go see when that cute waitress gets off – wouldn’t want to ruin your evenin’…”

As he makes to turn from you, your hand shoots out and grabs him by the front of his shirt; yanking him in closer to your body. You lean in close to his ear and whisper:

“Don’t you dare Sinclair. You might be a possessive bastard, but you’re not the only one here who can get jealous.”

His face threatens to split into another grin at your words. 

The struggle continues as you begin to run your hands slowly over his chest, playing with his buttons.

You give out a quiet gasp as his hand moves up the inside of your thigh and one knuckle presses against your pussy teasingly.

“Fuck right I’m a possessive bastard. You’re mine; and it’s nice to see the thought of me going off and givin’ it to some other girl gets you fired up. Fuckin’ makes you look so sexy.”

“Really?” you ask breathlessly “How sexy?”

This time he couldn’t contain his smirk, and he looks you straight in the eye as he tells you:

“If I could, I’d take you right on this bar until you couldn’t say anything but my name. Let the bartender watch, let the fuckin’ waitress watch – I haven’t been able to take my eyes off your sweet ass all night, and now I’m ready to fill you so full of my cum, you won’t notice I didn’t even buy you dinner first.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escapes as your cheeks flame.

Your snatch is getting progressively more and more wet, and you can feel the ease with which is knuckle slides up and down your slit, driving you to distraction.

A twist of his hand, and he’s giving your clit a sharp pinch, causing you to inhale sharply.

“Fuck! – take me home Bo.”

Nodding, he tosses a couple bills down on the bar and helps you down off the stool. 

He wraps an arm tightly across your shoulders, and you thread your arms around his waist, loving the feeling of his heat pressed against you.

As soon as you’re both seated in the truck, setting off towards Ambrose, Bo’s hand is back between your legs, pushing your skirt up over your hips and rubbing roughly at your hole.

Your hips thrust up against his hand, and he chuckles at your desperate expression.

Not quite ready to be outdone, you reach over and undo his fly, fishing around a bit before dragging his hard cock out into the cool evening air.

“Fu- _uh_ -ckkk…” Bo groans out as his head whacks back against the headrest.

You spit into your palm before bringing your hand back around his shaft, gliding your palm up and down in rhythm with his swirling fingers.

You’re certain you’re painting the seat with your juices; but right now, you couldn’t be bothered to care as Bo presses the heel of his hand to your heat, and you grind against it – moaning loudly over the noise of the blaring rock music streaming from the truck’s speakers.

“ _Ahh_! **BO**!” you cry out as your orgasm rushes over you, making you writhe against the seat.

Your grip must be becoming a bit too stimulating for the hardness in your hand, because you hear a soft “Shit” before you’re roughly pulled away from Bo’s crotch. 

Moments later, the truck makes a quick turn onto a dirt road; coming to an abrupt halt in a small copse of trees.

Bo’s out the door and circling the truck before you can fully recover yourself, and as he jerks the passenger door open, you fling yourself into his arms – wrapping your legs around his hips and kissing him madly. 

You toss his hat to the ground, and run your hands through his thick hair, trying to pull him even closer.

He returns your enthusiasm and grips your ass tightly as he snakes his tongue into your mouth, meeting you moan for moan.

Carrying you quickly to the rear of the truck, you’re abruptly set down on the open hatch of the pickup. 

Bo’s lips don’t detach from yours as he fumbles with his belt and you shakily undo his shirt buttons.

As soon as his clothes are moved out of the way, he’s yanking your hips to meet his, groaning in delight as he sheathes himself inside your wet heat with a single thrust.

It’s your turn to toss your head back as he starts up a punishing pace, pulling you down to press against his pelvis with each stroke – stimulating your clit and ramping you up towards a second release.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight. So fuckin’ gorgeous, I couldn’t wait one more minute to be inside you… **_UNGH_** , _aahhh_ , yeah… teasin’ me all night - showin’ off that sweet little snatch…”

You whine as his pace picks up.

“Bo – **_HAH_** – Bo, please, I’m so close… _BO_!”

“Don’t you worry darlin’, **_AH_**! I know it’s not nice to leave a lady waitin’…”

Your back arches impossibly far as his hand returns to pluck at your overheated pussy – thumb driving hard against your clit.

The tightening of your inner muscles as you fly over the edge once more is enough to bring Bo off as well, and you cling tightly to each other as you’re overwhelmed by pleasure.

Panting into each other’s necks, you smile as you feel Bo press soft kisses into your shoulder. He draws away long enough to hoist himself onto the hatch next to you, and he pulls you both down to lay on the chilled metal of the truck bed.

You reach overhead to grab one of the blankets he stores back here – a little greasy, but you weren’t going to complain right now – and pull it up to cover both of you in its warmth. 

His arm wraps itself around you as you snuggle into the crook of his shoulder – enjoying the uncharacteristic calm.

Surprisingly, he was the one who broke the silence.

“… You are, you know. Mine.”

Re-adjusting a bit, you glance up at him, shocked that he’s making an attempt to address your relationship.

He won’t meet your eyes, but you can see how serious his face is in the pale moonlight.

“You’re mine, and I don’t want anyone else… Ever…”

He swallows and seems to lose his nerve to carry on.

“So, you don’t need to worry about me goin’ back and fuckin’ that waitress, I guess…”

Ending with a bit of an awkward shrug, you can’t help but smile at your emotionally stunted man. 

God, you loved him. You knew he wouldn’t take you telling him that too well, so instead you replied:

“Well, then I guess I won’t go back and fuck her either.”

He lets out a sharp laugh and moves you back to recline against him.

“Poor woman, she’s really missin’ out.”


	10. Vincent x Reader: 100 Kinks 13 & 51

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: If your still doing the 100 kinks can you please do 13 and 51 with Vincent Sinclair please!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 13\. One catches the other masturbating
> 
> 51\. Telling each other kinks and doing them

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. 

Coming up on something like this had to be a once in a lifetime opportunity, and by God you were appreciating ever single second of it.

It had started out completely innocent – you’d been searching for Vincent in the House of Wax, stepping gingerly though the building, trying not to make too much eye contact with the wax statues as you made your way quietly down to the basement workroom.

Apparently, you must have been a lot more silent than you thought, because Vincent hadn’t heard your descent into his studio… and you’d caught him in a bit of a private moment.

He sat propped against his desk, with his head leaned back and legs spread wide – one hand moving slowly up and down his cock, which peaked enticingly from his undone trousers; the other caressing his chest under his thick sweater (you gave yourself a mental high-five for showing him how great nipple-play was, even for guys) pulling the wool up, giving you a small peak at his toned, smooth skin.

You could see his eyes were closed, and he was giving quiet gasps of pleasure at each lazy pull to his hard length.

You couldn’t contain yourself any longer when with his next exhalation he gave out a breathy “ _Aaahh_ … Y/N…”

You approached him slowly, making sure to put some extra sway in your hips as you spoke out “Is all that for me? I’m flattered.”

Immediately Vincent jumped in his seat and began trying to cover himself with his hands, pulling his sweater back down as added protection.

His head is lowered and hidden almost completely by his long black hair, but you can see the tips of his ears poking out and they’re the brightest red you’ve ever seen.

“… didn’t hear you come in…”

You straddled his knees, making his muscles tense even further beneath you. 

Running a hand through his hair, you prompted him to raise his eyes to meet yours for a moment.

“I figured you probably weren’t trying to put on a show; but for what it’s worth, I enjoyed it anyway.”

He gives an embarrassed shrug in response. You chuckle.

“I love that after all the things we’ve done, you still get flustered when I compliment you.”

“I just… still think this all might be a dream… sometimes…”

You give him a small smile, petting his face with both your hands, smoothing down to his neck and shoulders.

“Then let’s make it a good dream.”

You lean down next to his ear.

“What were you thinking about when you were touching yourself?”

He inhales sharply and quickly shakes his head, he does NOT want to tell you. 

You grin and bite your lip, wriggling a little on his thighs. You can see his cock, still hard and wanting, twitch at your movements. 

“How about I tell you one of my fantasies about you, then you tell me one about me? Seem fair?”

He gives a slow nod, just too turned on to pass on an opportunity to hear you tell him something dirty – and maybe give it a try?

“Well, you remember what a good time we had the night I showed you how to play with your nips?” 

You run your thumbs in a tight circle over his small buds as a reminder. 

“There’s a whole other part of you that I don’t think you’ve ever played with before – and I’d love to show you how much fun it can be…”

His full attention is on your face, and he’s breathing hard. Just the tone of your voice making him shaky with arousal.

“In my fantasy, I have you spread out on the bed… face down… completely naked… and I worship that tight ass of yours with my fingers and mouth until you’re crying for me to let you cum… “

Your thought was cut off abruptly as Vincent stood to his full height, grasping you under your thighs so you didn’t fall, as he quickly started to walk over to his corner cot.

“Yes. Yes, please. Can we do that? Please, let’s do that.”

You laugh merrily and nod, pressing kisses to any place on Vincent you can reach.

He gives out a hum of enjoyment and sets you down gently to stand by the cot – hands immediately beginning to pull at his clothes.

“Woah, woah, woah, baby! Slow down! We’re not in any rush… Take your time a little… Here, follow my lead.”

You begin a leisurely strip-tease, pulling off your own sweater slowly, turning as you swayed to an imaginary beat – making sure Vincent’s’ eyes stayed plastered to every inch of skin you chose to reveal – until you were down to your panties and bra.

“Your turn, handsome.”

Vincent immediately became bashful again, but gamely began to pull his hoodie away from his shoulders – drawing his sweater tight against his pectoral muscles.

Moaning in appreciation, you watched his sweater slide up along his strong torso – leaving you to admire his toned stomach and soft, pale skin.

You stopped him as he reached for his pants and prompted him to allow you to take it from here.

Once he settled on the cot, you climb atop and slow slide the course fabric down his legs; pressing kisses and licks all along your downward route.

“God, Vincent, you’re so beautiful. It’s like you were made just for me…”

He gives a small whimper in response as you tug his trousers away from his ankles, leaving him completely bare beneath you.

“Turn over baby, let me see you.”

With deliberate movements, Vincent tilts his hips until he’s face-down on the mattress; allowing himself a tiny sigh of relief at the pressure against his dripping cock.

You huff out a laugh.

“Oh, honey, if you think that’s good, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

At that, you bring your hands up to grasp onto Vincent’s ass, massaging and caressing his skin from pelvis to thigh.

You can feel his leg muscles bunching beneath you at the unfamiliar sensations, but you press on, finally parting his cheeks to take a good look at your intended target.

You recalled hearing him jump in the shower this morning, and you were pleasantly surprised that there wasn’t too much hair around his hole – which looked sweet and small in the low candle light – so you weren’t too concerned about his cleanliness as you bent down to press a lingering kiss to his pucker.

Vincent gasped and twisted around to watch as you continued to mouth at his hole; raising your eyes to meet his as you deliberately licked a long stripe from his perineum to his hole and back down again.

He pressed his head forcefully into the pillow and groaned as you began to give gentle nips to his rim and small scratches to his inner buttocks with your nails.

Taking advantage of his distraction, you pulled away from his hole, still worrying the skin of his taint with one hand, as you raised a finger to your mouth and covered it with your saliva.

When you felt it was appropriately wet, you slid it teasingly between Vincent’s ass cheeks, rubbing playfully against his hole.

Pressing your finger in slowly, you watched as the muscles in Vincent’s back contracted and released at the unfamiliar sensations you were providing. You listened to the muffled cry he gave as he attempted to smother his noises into the down cushion.

He held onto it like a lifeline.

“If you press your face any harder into that pillow, you’re going to ruin your mask… Let me hear you sweetheart. Show me how much you love this…”

Vincent turned his head and cried out as you began to gently rotate your finger – giving out a shaky “Oh fuck…” as he felt your curled knuckles press against him.

“How does that feel gorgeous?”

“ _Aaahhh_ , **oh** , feels good. Feels _so_ good…”

“Do you want another finger? Can you take more?”

His breath hitched as you ran lightly across his prostate – teasing him with the potential for pure ecstasy.

“ _ **Yes**_!! God, yes, please… another **AH** , _fuck_ …”

Humming with approval, you slowly slide a second finger into his slick hole; watching as he tenses at the increase of pressure, then collapses back against the mattress with your first slow thrusts.

“You’re stretching so pretty for me…” you bend down to press a kiss to his back “… I wish I could keep you like this forever…”

He gives out a whine, curving his ass up towards your movements, wriggling his pelvis against the sheets in an attempt to bring some relief to his trapped dick.

“Oh, baby, I bet you’re dripping under there – is your sweet cock about ready to burst?” 

As his moans increased in intensity, you slipped your free hand down to caress your slick cunt beneath your panties, drawing tight circles around your clit as you watched Vincent writhe against your driving fingers.

Vincent watched you with shuttered eyes as you ran your gaze hungrily up and down his body.

“Holy fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum just from watching you – perfect boy… _Oooohhh God_ …”

Crying out loudly, Vincent arched his spine and pressed back against your fingers – driving them into his prostate.

“ _ **AAAHHHHHHHHHH**_ FUCK FuCK _Fuuuuccckkkk_ ….!!!!”

His hips rose off the bed in punishing slams as his cum roped out of his pulsing cock – painting the sheets beneath him with white.

You moaned loudly and rode your fingers to completion as Vincent lay panting beneath you.

Once you finished, you sunk down and lay yourself on top of Vincent’s heaving, sweaty back. Pressing soft open-mouthed kisses into his skin.

He panted and reached back to grab your hand, squeezing it tightly. 

“… That was…”

“I know…”

“Love you… so much.”

“I love you too, Vincent.”

He hummed in contentment and released a heavy sigh, relaxing entirely beneath you.

You couldn’t help but tease him a little as the cool air began to dry your bodies.

“You know… your accent becomes so much more noticeable when you’re about to cum…”

Vincent groaned and pressed his face back into the pillow in embarrassment.

“Oh God, that’s gonna come back around next time we fuck isn’t it?”

Laughing lightly, you replied “You bet it is, country boy. I’m gonna hear that accent again if I have to sex us both into an early grave to get there.”

He laughed, making you jolt atop him.

“I can’t wait.”


	11. Bo x Reader: The Morning After Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: lookwhatellenwrote asked: a l s o please may i have some bedheaded, gruff-voiced, morning after bo? <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part 1 of a 3 part series. It can be read in order from 1-2-3 or from Meet-Cute to Hookup to Morning After; whatever floats your boat!!

The soft Southern sun glowed down on your upturned face as you sat in the single chair your dingy motel room had provided. A mug of steaming coffee held in your hands provided a sense of warmth and comfort as you blinked the remaining sleep from your eyes.

A rustle of bedsheets brought your attention back into the room, and a slight tilt of your head brought your gaze to contemplate your bed-mate. 

Somewhere along in the evening you’d caught that his name was ‘Bo’… at least you were pretty sure it was.

It definitely fit his Southern charm and country-boy good looks. 

As far as you knew, one-night-stand etiquette would have allowed you to offer a polite kiss on the cheek and cab fare to take him home once you two had finished ( _and boy, oh boy, had you both finished_ ), leaving you free and clear to continue your travels at the crack of dawn this morning; but once you’d both recovered and lay quietly, enjoying the afterglow, you found that you didn’t have any particular desire to leave his arms.

So, when it would have been the appropriate time to send him on his way, you’d stayed quiet.

Eventually you’d both drifted off into pleasantly exhausted slumber.

The small coffee machine the motel had provided gave out an obnoxiously loud gurgle, which seemed to be the siren call that pulled your companion out of unconsciousness.

Ancient bed-springs protested loudly as the man began to slowly stretch and ease himself into awareness. 

You gave a small grin as one particular movement prompted a muffled “ _fuck_ ” into the pillow Bo still lay on. 

As he propped himself up onto his elbows, you surveyed the handiwork you’d left on him from the night before – appreciating the pink score-marks your nails had left on his chest (you were sure his back was in a similar state), as well as the hickies on his neck and collar-bone. 

You pulled the bathrobe you wore a bit tighter around your naked body – already knowing it was well-marked by his hands and lips too.

“Good morning. Want some coffee?”

He blinked blearily across the room at you; seemingly confused to find himself still in your motel room.

“What time is it?”

His voice was rough and low with the last vestiges of sleep, and he cleared his throat almost immediately after speaking.

You gestured over to the bedside clock, which blinked a sanguine 9:14 AM.

He huffed in annoyance.

“Shit. Yeah, I’ll take a coffee.”

As you poured the steaming bitter liquid into a slightly chipped mug you queried:

“You have someplace you need to be this morning?”

“… Just not usually out all night.”

Your mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that he’d lied when he said he didn’t have a wife waiting at home; but you’d already done the deed - it wasn’t like you could un-ring that bell. 

So, you swallowed back your disappointment and stood to offer him the cup.

“I hope you’re okay with it black - I kind of used up all the creamer. They’re not exactly serving Starbucks here.”

He sat up fully – rubbing a hand over his stubble-y cheeks and up through his (actually _incredibly_ poofy) bed-head; sheets pooling low on his naked hips – and carefully took the mug from your hand, blowing on it and taking a sip. 

Taking advantage of his momentary distraction, you observed his body a bit more closely in the morning light – eyes taking in what your hands had discovered last night.

At first blush, Bo was a perfectly flawless specimen – tall strong body, dark thick hair, tanned skin, blue eyes, and a smile that had almost literally melted your panties off – but upon closer inspection he was covered in small scars, some thin and pale, others round and red, leading your gaze to his wrists which were solid, pink scar tissue. 

Your stomach gave an unpleasant twist when you thought about what could cause those kinds of marks; and his questionable choice of long-sleeved garments in the Louisiana heat suddenly made a lot more sense.

Not wanting to be caught staring, you quickly turned and shuffled back to plop into the uncomfortable wooden chair you’d just vacated.

Pouring the last of the coffee into your empty cup, you worried at the handle just to give your hands something to do.

You’d never been particularly good at small-talk, and the over-all unique situation you found yourself in sucked any remaining chatter from you. 

Unbidden, your gaze returned to Bo, hoping looking at him would prompt some kind of conversational topic in your brain.

He was still slowly nursing his coffee, but his eyes were on you now as well – he offered you a still slightly sleepy grin; which you bashfully returned.

“Last night was fun. I don’t usually do that…this kind of thing.”

“Do what? Fuck a stranger, or keep ‘em around for coffee in the morning?”

Your smile was a bit wider now.

“Both, I guess. Since I broke up with my boyfriend I’ve been too focused on work to really worry about that stuff.”

“Well, now that’s just a waste of talent.”

The laughter his comment prompted came unbidden from your mouth, and you quickly slapped a hand over your lips to keep it in. 

He winked at you as he raised his mug in a playful gesture.

You couldn’t help but preen a bit at his compliment. Not that you were interested in a rotating door of sexual partners, but it was nice to know you hadn’t lost your touch.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

‘ _Lame_!!’ your brain shouted. You winced and started to back-pedal.

“I-I mean, you were really good - I had a good time… I’m sure you could tell… but, like, you don’t have to worry I was faking or anything, I think it’s dumb to do that, you know; but even if I did, I wouldn’t have had to… I… am going to stop now.”

Bo’s eyebrows were raised to his hairline, and his lips were twitching in suppressed mirth.

“Now that we’ve established we both enjoyed ourselves…” his voice shook a bit with laughter.

“… How about you pass me my pants so we don’t put you over your check-out time?”

You let out a soft “Oh!” and scrambled to toss him the dark blue workpants you’d picked up and folded over the back of your chair this morning.

He caught them easily and groaned as he slid out from under the covers (you were right, his back was lined with your thin nail marks – which made you unreasonably happy). 

He leaned down to work his pants back up his legs, and stood to zip them, letting you have one last peek at his bare ass. Damn. It really was a nice view.

You plucked up his hat as he pulled his shirt over his head, and twirled it around on your finger teasingly. 

He smirked and sauntered over to you, grasping you roughly by the waist – a bit of the fire he’d demonstrated the previous night returning to his eyes – and pulled you in to his body for a searing kiss.

The hat dropped to the ground as your hand spasmed and your knees wobbled the minute Bo slid his tongue seductively against yours.

You broke apart with a gasp, sparks beginning to ignite the same passion you’d shared just hours previous – he was already partly hard against your stomach, and your hips were beginning to make small grinding motions against his.

A glance at the clock put a halt to anything that may have progressed from there.

9:45 AM

Fifteen minutes until check-out time. Shit.

Sighing in disappointment, you stepped back. Bo tilted his head in understanding, and bent to pick up his hat; setting it atop his head, covering his impressive bed-fluffed hair situation.

His arm returned to your waist as you both stepped towards the door, and you pressed against him, trying to soak in a little more of his heat before you were left to continue your travels alone.

At the door, he turned to look at you once more. You could swear there was something wistful in his gaze before he covered it with a full-toothed grin.

“Well, sweetheart, good luck. Safe travels. Watch out for gators.”

You returned his grin, taking in everything that you’d begun to associate with ‘Bo’ before you said goodbye.

“Catch ya later, Bo. Watch out for any more city-girls carrying hot coffee. That shirt can only take so much more abuse.”

Both chuckling at the shared remembrance of how you’d literally run into him, you pressed a hand to the barely visible stain on his chest.

With a squeeze to your hand and another wink, Bo stepped away and began the walk back to the bar to collect his truck.

Your eyes followed his tall form for a few seconds before you pulled yourself away and hurriedly began tossing your luggage together. 

Slipping into some comfortable clothes, you closed the door behind you and started for your car.

**SEVERAL HOURS LATER**

You could not believe you were fucking LOST AGAIN!! And this time in the middle of absolutely nowhere. 

No little town to house you for the evening, no diner for a burger and coffee, no bar… No Bo… 

Whatever.

You recalled seeing a sign for some little tourist trap a few miles back, maybe they would have a map and some gas for your car - Something, something House of Wax. 

Oh well, might as well give it a shot.


	12. Bo x Reader: Meet-Cute Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK…. so I’ve decided to break this Bo x Reader story into three parts, not just two. I figured 1700 words was probably enough back-story, but didn’t want you guys to drown in something overly-long. This will officially be part two - when Bo and the Reader meet - and the next part will be The Hook-up aka: ALL SMUT. You’ll be able to read them in order, or from meeting to departure, whatever makes the most sense to you. All my love to @lookwhatellenwrote because she sent in the prompts that started this mess, and she’s just the best in general!! <3<3<3

You were pretty sure that anyone who had ever moved themselves anywhere would concur: moving was the worst.

This thought continued to run through your head as you grumbled and groaned over an actual map (!) of Louisiana, trying to get the legend to explain to you how your hour-and-a-half drive from New Orleans to Baton Rouge had turned into a four-and-a-half-hour journey into deep southern bayous and small-town Americana.

The sun was just beginning to sink below the tree-line as you drained the last of the diner coffee out of a non-descript white mug. A kink in your neck said that you’d regret staying so long curled over the laminate surface; but damn if you weren’t frustrated enough to think that was just the icing on an already crap-day.

A waitress, wearing a blue dress and white apron – looking like she’d stepped right out of the 1950’s – approached you from behind the counter; looking at you sympathetically as you twisted the ancient map she’d lent you. 

The new angle didn’t make the squiggles and dots any more legible. 

“Refill, hun?” 

You sighed deeply and pushed the empty coffee mug in her direction.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt. Maybe one more jolt will help me figure out how to get back on the 10…”

She pursed her lips.

“Oh sweetie, you’re closer to the 55 than you are to the 10. You’re real lost.”

You gave her a tight-lipped smile and hummed in agreement. 

_‘No kidding.’_

“Actually, you think I could get that coffee to-go? And maybe the name of a decent motel around here?”

Fresh coffee in hand, and directions to ‘Larry’s Stay and Sleep’ tucked in your brain, you exited the diner and decided to spend what little daylight remained exploring the town.

It was cute, in the way that only very small towns can be; but fifteen minutes later and you’d circled the square and felt like you’d seen everything note-worthy. 

Thankfully, the coffee was hot and not terrible, and your gaze caught on the way the last rays of sun poked over the quaint courthouse roof.

Which was probably why you completely missed the tall body barreling in your direction from a nearby store. 

Your peripheral vision caught the dark blur coming at you just in time for you to spin around and knock chests with the figure.

Unfortunately, your heroic coffee cup tried to protect you from the oncoming collision, and in the process sloshed it’s piping hot contents all over the man who’d bumped into you.

**“SHIT!!”**

“Oh FUCK, I’m _SO_ **SORRY**!!”

“WHAT THE HELL??!! AWW _FUCK_ , THAT’S _**HOT**_!!”

“Oh my GOD!! Take your shirt off!!”

“ **WHAT**!? FUCK OFF!!”

“Don’t be a wuss!! You’re making it HURT MORE!!”

You hurriedly unsnapped the buttons on the man’s over-shirt (batting away his protesting hands) and tugged his wet tee away from his skin – frantically waving it back and forth trying to negate the scalding feeling.

The adrenaline began to wear off about thirty seconds into your movements and you came to the truly horrific realization that you were wrist deep in a complete stranger’s bare abdomen.

“Oh…” you said in a small voice. Your hands frozen mid-wave.

You braved a glance up at the man you were essentially assaulting.

He looked down at you with a slightly open mouth, brow quirked incredulously – looking as if he didn’t know whether he should laugh out loud or blow a fuse.

Somewhere, you read that ‘ _a masterful retreat is in itself a victory_ ’ and in this particular moment, you couldn’t agree more. 

Though you highly doubted that anyone would find your squeaked-out “ _sorry_ ” and speed-walk in the opposite direction to be in any way masterful.

You didn’t dare to look back towards the man as you trotted round a corner to walk the last half-block to reach the ‘Stay and Sleep’; but since the sound of heavy boots didn’t follow, you released the breath you’d been holding and groaned in mortification.

You let out a muffled “ _fuck_ ” into your hands. Definitely not the best way you’d ever handled an emergency. 

Ugh, you needed a drink.

Thankfully, kindly old Larry (apparently very proud to own his own motel) was able to direct you to the nearest bar; and once you’d finished unpacking your bag and changing into a new pair of jeans you made a bee-line for the neon-covered building.

Upon entering, your nose was immediately assaulted with the smells of fry-oil, sawdust, and Old Spice. 

Typical dive-bar. Not exactly the best combo, but you were hungry and tired; and as a waitress passed you carrying a tray piled high with nachos, you decided the loud smells weren’t as loud as your need for a plate of those chips. Screw your diet.

Either this bar wasn’t exactly a popular hang-out, or this town really was extremely small, because there were only about half-a-dozen other patrons in the building with you. 

That suited you just fine. Less people around to watch you drown your woes in cheese and martinis.

A drink in and half your nachos gone, and you were feeling much better about your day. Baton Rouge wasn’t going anywhere. You’d find the 10 and make it to your new home without any problem in the morning. 

A few more sips and you had never been more positive of anything in your whole life. 

You continued to munch as the bell over the entrance door tinkled, signaling the entrance of a new patron.

Apparently a familiar one, as the bartender frowned at whoever had walked through the door.

“Ya here to start somethin’ Bo?”

The responding scowl was audible in the answering voice.

“Fuck off. Just pour me a God damn beer.”

“Ya got money?”

A crinkled twenty was slapped down on the wooden counter next to you, making you jump.

The bartender snagged the bill and looked like he was contemplating checking it for authenticity; but finally turned and tossed the tender into the register, passing back the change with a contemptuous look.

The man drew out the stool two down from yours, and you were trying to decide how to make a quick exit without it being obvious you wanted away from this guy, when that same deep drawl spoke up once more.

“Lucky I was wearin’ my work-shirt today. ‘Else I might make you buy me a new one.”

No way. Your luck couldn’t possibly be that bad.

Sadly, as your gaze slowly moved up rough hands to toned arms, then down to a strong chest… wearing a lightly coffee-stained long-sleeve tee -shirt… you decided that yes, it could be that bad.

Biting the proverbial bullet, you raised your eyes to meet a pair of stunning blue. Intellectually, you knew this was probably not a guy you would want anywhere near you on a normal day, but fuck if martini-and-nacho-you didn’t think this guy was unfairly hot.

He was staring at you intently. Not friendly, but not exactly with hostility either. A very serious, piercing gaze.

“Sorry… Want some nachos?”

_DUMB._

He shrugged.

“Sure.”

He slid over to the stool next to yours and pulled a cheese covered chip from your pile. 

You gave him a glowing smile at his apparent acceptance of your lame apology, and he responded with a smirk that made his eyes crinkle attractively. 

Shit, you were in trouble.

What may have turned into a moment between the two of you was interrupted by the clink of a beer mug being set down in front of your companion.

He set upon it almost immediately, and within a few moments the glass was nearly drained.

“Good beer?” you queried, quirking an eyebrow.

He grunted and shrugged non-committaly, taking on last pull from the mug before setting the now-empty glass against the wood.

You watched from the corner of your eye as his fingers returned to his pocket, worrying the remaining bills inside.

Before he had a chance to make a decision, you gathered your courage and spoke up.

“Hey, can I buy your next round?”

His eyes immediately narrowed, edging on angry.

“Don’t need any fuckin’ charity.”

He moves to get up, and you make a grab for his sleeve, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just really sorry about earlier… and everything else… Please, stay.”

He settled back onto his stool, and maintaining a slightly narrowed gaze on you. You motioned the bartender to refill both of your glasses – ignoring the disapproving look he shot your way.

“So, why are you persona-non-grata around here?”

His mouth turned down in a frown.

“You really are shit at this chit-chat thing, aren’t you sweetheart?”

You clapped a hand over your mouth. 

“Oh God. Yes. Again, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean anything by it… Please, let me buy you another beer, and you can go sit by someone who’s not such an ass…”

Exhaling deeply, the man leaned back against the bar; running a hand across his scalp in an agitated motion, though his dark hair was covered by a faded trucker-cap.

“Shit – nah. Listen, how ‘bout I buy you ‘nother martini, you buy me a beer, and we start over?”

Frowning, you replied “That sounds great, but I’m not sure why you’d want that?”

He seemed to transform almost before your eyes – from a surly, dour man into a handsome country boy with a grin that promised wicked, wicked things…

“There are worse ways to spend an evenin’ than in the company of a beautiful lady – even if she does have a mouth like a wreckin’ ball.”

You chuckled lightly. Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong; but you appreciated the compliment mixed in there as well.

Deciding to be a bit bolder than normal, you shot back “You should see what else I can wreck with my mouth…”

His grin widened, and the tip of his tongue peaked past his plush lips… God, he really was a delicious looking man. You weren’t ashamed to say you were feeling a bit heated by the way his eyes caught yours.

“I’d love to see that darlin’. Fair’s fair. I’m known for havin’ a bit of a mouth on me as well. How ‘bout we see where the night goes, and maybe later I’ll have my mouth on you?”

You clinked your martini glass against his beer mug and sent a mischievous smile in his direction.

“Deal.”


	13. H/C: Vincent and Kitten-Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: That cat collar you mentioned in the headcannon post w/Vincent immediately got me thinking about kitten play. Can i please have some headcannons on that please with Vincent ovbs!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'H/C' chapters indicate that the prompt was filled using bullet-points instead of a full-narrative

• When he first starts wearing his collar, it’s meant entirely as a joke – you’d both been making comments about how silently the other moved, and he found the matching collars in the pet store and brought them to you as a gag-gift

• All that changes the first time you’re fooling around in the basement, and you grab onto the collar to pull him down to meet your kiss – he lets out the most sinful whine – even he’s a bit embarrassed to admit it came from him

• You both leave that encounter with a lot of things to think about – he retreats to the small Ambrose library to do some digging in the romance section, and you take a stroll around the empty streets – considering how to approach this potentially delicate subject with your sensitive artist boyfriend

• You return to your room that night to find your man suspiciously absent, but there’s a colorful paperback sitting on your pillow – the cover showing a buxom woman wearing small cat ears and a pink collar. You spend several hours reading through the book – perhaps imagining the hot, strong body of your lover in the scenarios the book presented… but that’s between you and your hand… And when you close the book your mind is brimming with ideas

• When Vincent enters the room the next morning, you’re already sitting up in bed waiting for him. “Did you have a good night, kitten? I missed you.” He freezes at your words – looking a bit nervous – but when you curl your finger and make small calling noises, he glides across the room to stand at the foot of your bed

• “Come on pretty kitty; come snuggle with me.” These words jolt him into action, and before you know it you have a tired lap-full of your boyfriend’s dark hair; his body stretched out across the mattress. Stroking up and down his back and rubbing at his scalp, you listen to his small noises of contentment – not quite a purr, but you’ve got time to work on that

• Your games progress over the next few weeks, and Vincent more often than not has his collar tucked safely beneath his clothes during the day – he’ll rub up against you playfully when you’re standing at the stove and you’ll turn around to tug at the leather around his neck and whisper “sassy pussy-cat” into his ear

• It’s really the best of both worlds for the two of you – Vincent doesn’t feel pressure to make himself more socially available than he wants to (everyone knows cats enjoy their freedom); and you know that when he does seek you out, he’s doing so because he’s missing you – plus, you love the sense of playful mischief he exudes when he’s stretched out across the bed waiting for your loving strokes, or pressing his hard body into yours and nuzzling anywhere he can reach

• The day you bring home the ears and tail-plug is the first time you feel any anxiety about possibly pushing your play too far. Wearing a collar was one thing, but what you were about to suggest was a whole other level, and you weren’t entirely sure what Vincent’s reaction would be

• Your evening was well under-way when you decided to present Vincent with your purchases. You assured him that you’d already done plenty together that night if he wasn’t ready; but not even in your best-case scenario would you have imagined Vincent to take the ears, place them gently atop his head, then drop to his knees, turning around and prostrating himself so his ass swayed erotically in the low candle-light.

• You scrambled to locate the lube, thoroughly coating the plug and Vincent’s puckered entrance with the slick before beginning to press the silicone into your precious feline’s body. Vincent began to make whining noises and huffing moans as soon as the tip entered, and by the time the tail was completely inserted he was shivering and undulating on the cool floor of your bedroom; making the fluffy appendage wave enticingly.

• Taking a deep breath, you gave Vincent a slow rub down the length of his back, running your hand down to the tip of his tail, giving a small tug and watching as his ass tightened to hold the plug in its place. You groaned at the sight, and set yourself on the edge of the mattress, gazing at your beautiful Vincent. You spread your legs, revealing your dripping core, and Vincent immediately perked up at the sight. “Come on, baby, I’ve got some cream for you to lick… Good kitten…”


	14. Vincent x Reader: Femdom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: anonymous asked: Ok this may seem like an odd request but, Vincent getting dommed by his fem s/o please!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live for femdom. It's my bread and butter.

You watched calmly from the foot of the small cot as your boyfriend slowly roused himself from a deep slumber. 

His naked body covered by a thin sheet didn’t do much to hide the flexing muscles in his chest and shoulders as his still form began to shift and coil into wakefulness. 

Smiling in anticipation (and not a small amount of appreciation), you waited for Vincent to notice your surprise.

The moment he found himself unable to lower his arms or move his legs was one you’d treasure eternally…

* * *

Getting Vincent to open up about his kinkier side, or even what he might enjoy in bed, was like pulling teeth – but you’d been able to finagle him into stuttering out a quiet confession that he desperately wanted you to tie him down and take control. 

He’d specifically asked that he not be made aware you were planning to do so before-hand; which had made this particular scenario a bit tricky. Vincent had a bad habit of staying up much later than you and rising with the sun. You swore that man ran on about three hours of sleep a night. 

This was especially true when inspiration for his art struck. If he was particularly invested in a piece, sometimes you wouldn’t see him for a week. It was in the midst of one of those times when you decided to take matters into your own hands. You’d slept in as much as you possibly could to be able to catch Vincent during one of his late-late-late-night cat-naps. 

You’d lucked out when you crept down the stairs to the basement to find Vincent sprawled carelessly across his cot - Jonesy snoozing at the foot of her daddy’s bed. She lifted her head and thumped her tail in greeting as you slowly approached, and you gave her a quick scratch behind the ears before patting her on the butt and sending her upstairs. You closed and locked the door behind her, then got to work.

Several lengths of rope, a pain-stakingly slow undressing, and more silent cussing than you’d care to admit found Vincent tied spread-eagle on his cot. You replaced the blanket he’d been draped in prior to your arrival and sat down to wait…

* * *

An audible gasp from behind his mask was the first indicator that Vincent found something to be amiss.

He hadn’t noticed your presence yet, and he began yanking and twisting against the ropes trying to free himself - giving frustrated moans and grunts as your knots held firm.

“Vincent…”

Your quiet voice cut through the sleep-tinged-panic he’d been experiencing, and Vincent lifted his head as far as he could to gaze at you in confusion.

“Y/N, wha- “

“Don’t speak Vincent. I’m very upset with you. You’ve been down here for days – Neglecting me. Forgetting about some incredibly important things I need from you…”

You stood – letting him see the sheer robe you’d changed into – displaying your naked breasts and womanhood underneath. 

Sidling up to the foot of the cot, you grasped the sheet and slowly pulled it down his body. The sharp inhale he let out told you he was just now noticing that he’d been stripped entirely. 

As you let the sheet fall to the floor, you saw he was already half-hard just from the sight of you. His eye behind the mask met yours in a pleading look as you disrobed.

“Please, I’m sorr – **AHH**!!”

He cried out as you slapped his thigh with your palm – then, quickly climbing atop his writhing form, you pressed his shoulders into the mattress. 

Glaring down at him, your voice took on a serious note as you asked:

“Didn’t I just tell you to stay quiet? I’m frustrated, Vincent. You think it’s just fine to leave me lonely in bed for days… But I’m hungry, Vincent. I want you there when I need a fuck. I need your big, hard, cock filling me up the way my fingers just can’t replicate…”

Vincent let out a quiet moan at your words, hips jolting beneath you just once before you pressed back against his pelvis, holding him in place.

“… but then I come down to fix the problem you’ve caused, and what do you do? You give me lip. I was so ready to let you cum; but now you’re going to have to earn it.”

You sway your hips atop his, feeling his cock at full harness against you.

“Are you going to earn it sweetheart?”

Vincent gasped and responded immediately “Yes!! Yes, I swear I’ll earn it, God… Please let me…”

You kept your face as blank as a stone as you gently removed his mask – taking in his panting mouth and desperate look – before leaning down to whisper into his ear…

“I didn’t say you were allowed to speak, pet.”

A pitiful whimper escaped Vincent’s mouth, but he wisely kept his comments to himself as you spoke: 

“Since I don’t particularly want to gag you right now, I’m going to give you two options for your punishment. Option Number One: You will wear a cock-ring for the entirety of our time here, until I think you’ve earned my forgiveness. You will not be allowed to cum before I tell you, no matter what. Option Number Two is very similar, except I’ll be plugging your tight ass up with a vibrator instead of letting you wear a cock ring. As with Option One, you will not be allowed to cum. Speak and tell me which option you prefer.”

Vincent moaned loudly and replied “Number One, please…”

You slid down his body and positioned yourself atop his calves, getting a face-full of his erection as it bobbed with his minuscule movements.

Pulling the ring out from where you’d tucked it in-between the mattresses, you waved it teasingly in front of Vincent’s face before slipping it quickly over his cock and balls – listening with a small smirk as Vincent yelped at the sensation.

You sat back and admired the pretty picture the long-haired Sinclair made lying beneath you.

He was already giving you the most heated, aroused look you’d ever seen on him, and you really hadn’t even started yet. If you’d known how much Vincent enjoyed being dominated by you, you would have introduced it into your bedroom games a loooonnnnggg time ago. 

Deciding to play with him a bit, you ducked down and swallowed his cock as far down as you could in one go.

Vincent went wild.

He cried out loudly and thrashed his arms and legs as much as the ropes would allow as you sucked and hummed around him. 

Drawing away quickly, you ran your nails up and down his thighs as he whimpered – leaning back in and giving soft kisses and licks to his tip. 

You couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped your mouth. 

He was so beautifully responsive to everything you did… 

You’d had a few submissive partners before you came to Ambrose, but the experience was always lacking a spark – so you’d been content to switch in the bedroom, not really seeing what the big deal about dominance was. 

Looking into Vincent’s face made you reconsider your disinterest.

Vincent’s chest heaved beneath you as you slithered your way up his body, stopping frequently to bite at his skin; leaving red marks and making him squirm against his bonds. 

His knuckles were white with tension by the time you’d reached his head. As you settled your knees on either side of his shoulders, you looked down and nearly purred at the strung-out, drunken expression of lust on his face.

You ran a hand across his scalp, pushing his sweat-laced hair away from his eye. 

“Remember baby, you’re not cumming until I think you’ve earned it.”

You began rubbing your slickness across his chin, prompting him to gasp and open his mouth in anticipation.

“Now, get to work.”

You sunk your pussy down down down until your hips were flush against Vincent’s face.

Biting your lip hard was the only way to hold in your cry of pleasure as the man beneath you began to scoop your slick away from your hole with his tongue.

He ate you out like he was starving, and you were a five-course gourmet meal - moaning and groaning beneath you as he slid his tongue and lips around you.

If you turned your head, you could see his hips humping the air as the filthy sounds of his slurping your wetness filled the quiet basement.

You grasped the cold metal of the headboard for dear life as he burrowed his tongue inside you and curled it, making you cry out as the first flutters of your finish began to crest.

You reached down and yanked his hair to press his lips even closer to your pussy – and he responded by enthusiastically suckling on your clit – sending you careening off into the white haze of one of the hardest orgasms you’ve ever had.   
  


As your sense began to return, your ears were filled with the last echoes of your screams, and Vincent’s panting from beneath you.

You released his hair and allowed his head to drop back to the pillow – his eye was bright with tears and he was utterly soaked in your fluids – mouth agape and jaw working slowly as you slid back down his chest.

“That was so good Vincent. You were so perfect for me. Do you want to cum?”

He nodded once.

“Good boy.”

You pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips – which he tiredly turned to meet – before you reached down and removed the cock ring from his pulsing erection.

He let out a small sob of joy as you lowered yourself down onto his leaking length.

“Speak Vincent, tell me what you’re feeling. What do you need baby?”

Once you gave the order, Vincent babbled and cried as you slowly rode his cock.

“ _Ah_ … fuck, so good… so tight. I never - _**Aaaahhkk**_! Never thought I’d get to _uh_ get to be with someone like this… ** _gasp_ ** you’re so perfect ma’am, so kind to me _shhhiiiiiiiiiiiiitttt_ **AH** _**fuck**_ thank you, thank you for this. I’m so sorry I disobeyed you at firs _tttttttt uuunnnggg_ … I won’t ever do it again **CHRIST** _**PLEASE**_. Please, ma’am, please let me cum inside you!!!”

You took a moment to smile down at him and listen to the quiet voice you loved so much get louder the closer he came to his end; and enjoy the light Southern accent you knew he possessed get thicker and more obvious the more desperate he got.

“Fill me up, sweetheart. You’ve earned it.”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of affection for the Sinclair brothers, and I like to include my own personal head-cannons into a lot of my works about them. So if something doesn't sound familiar... it's probably my add-in. Please pop over to tumblr and I will yell about them to you.


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